


Found

by elementalv



Series: Lost [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-05
Updated: 2006-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Ray find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found

For the tenth day in a row, I wake up in Vecchio’s arms. He’s been here a couple of weeks now, since just before the funeral, and he hasn’t bothered to leave yet. Don’t know what the hell is going on with him and Stella, and right now, I don’t much care.

The first time I woke up with Vecchio, he was wrapped around me like I was his favorite teddy bear or something. It didn’t freak me out none. I’m not sure anything could have, not that morning. Not after the way I lost it with him the night before. Anyway, I was pretty damn peaceful when I woke up with that schnozz of his bending my ear forward.

I moved a little that day, thinking he would be unhappy to find me where I was, but Vecchio just held on tighter and muttered something about cracking me in the head if I even so much as contemplated disturbing his comfort, _Stanley_, so shut up and go back to sleep. Thought about kicking him. Didn’t. Just went back to sleep like he said and didn’t wake up again ’til noon.

This morning, Vecchio’s got a woody, and it’s nudging my ass. It feels nice, and I press back before I remember his hard-on isn’t mine to play with. I shift forward and then end up back where I was when Vecchio grabs my hip and tugs. Just to emphasize his point, I guess, he sucks on my earlobe.

“I ain’t Stella,” I tell him, irritated as all fuck, because that earlobe thing revs my engines, and now they’re just gonna idle.

“I ain’t Benny.” He bites my neck, pushes his dick hard against my ass.

I groan. It feels damn good, and if it weren’t for the guilt, I’d have us naked in no time. This has nothing to do with Ben being in the ground less than two weeks. As far as I’m concerned, I lost him three years ago, when he couldn’t remember me anymore. In other words, I did my grieving long before he died in his sleep, so my guilt has nothing to do with Ben.

Vecchio starts humping me, and I object, ask about The Stella. “Remember her?” I add, “Five-seven, blonde, gives a blow-job that can bring tears to your eyes, it’s so damn good?”

His hips stop, but he doesn’t let go of me. “She moved out over a year ago.”

“Jesus, Vecchio.” I fight him and the sheets and eventually roll around so we’re face to face. We’re woody to woody, too, but I ignore that. Mostly. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“You had enough to deal with.” He reaches down, slips his hand in my boxers, gives me a little squeeze. I grunt, push into his grip without meaning to. Haven’t been interested in sex since Ben lost me, but I’m interested now. At the same time, I’m also interested in kicking Vecchio in the head, because this is coming out of nowhere.

“You should have said something.”

“Nothing you could do.” He’s looking at me like — like I’m — Hell. If he looked at Stella like that, it’s no wonder she followed him to Florida and that bowling alley of theirs.

“Maybe not, but —”

“Shut up, Ray.” He kisses me.

It’s not wild or sloppy, it’s just intense and slow and enough to make me forget why I want to kick him in the head. It’s his lips and mine, tongues sometimes meeting, mostly not. Vecchio’s morning mouth isn’t any great shakes, and that’s okay. I don’t figure mine is either, so I settle into the kiss, remember a little bit at a time what it’s like to get this wrapped up in someone else. He’s still got his hand on my dick, but he’s only holding it now, not doing anything fancy. I think he’s forgotten what he was doing with it earlier, and that’s okay, because a kiss this good deserves everyone’s full attention.

I’m not sure how long we lie there, making out. We probably would have gone all day if McQueen hadn’t jumped on the bed to complain about a lack of breakfast. Vecchio looks a little embarrassed when I tell McQueen it’s all Vecchio’s fault I forgot, and that makes me feel a little better, knowing he’s as off-balance as I am.

An hour later, I’m back inside after feeding McQueen and the rest of the team, and Vecchio’s put breakfast on the table. He’s a decent cook — hell, he’s a great cook, compared to me and Katie. I scarf down what’s in front of me, and after the table is cleared and we’re both working on our third cup of coffee, I ask, “What happened with you and Stella?”

“Nothing. She just wanted something else is all.” His eyes shift left while he’s talking, and I can tell the instant he realizes his mistake. He tries to cover his tell by looking out the kitchen window.

“Not a bad lie,” I say, leaning back. “Wanna try the truth this time?”

He slumps down, gives me a little kid look. “Do I _hafta_?”

I got all kinds of answers to that, including pointing out that I just buried Ben, so if he’s serious about wanting in my pants, he has to come clean about his marriage. After all, I never stopped loving The Stella, so cheating on her with her current husband isn’t something I intend to do, no matter how good he kisses, if there’s any chance the two of them can reconcile. And speaking of kisses, as much spit as we swapped earlier, I think I’m entitled to an explanation five minutes ago.

In the end, I settle for a simple, “Yeah.”

We sit there for a long time, long enough for me to refill our coffee cups, long enough for Vecchio to figure out what the hell he’s gonna say.

“It started falling apart after you told us Benny didn’t remember you anymore.”

Calling that time hell on earth doesn’t come close to describing what it was really like. Vecchio heard from us pretty much every morning for a few months, because Ben still knew who he was, trusted his word. So we’d call Vecchio, and he’d tell Ben that yeah, I was supposed to be there, I was good folks, don’t worry about it. After we’d finish talking to Vecchio, I’d talk to Stella most days, because she remembered me, helped me feel like I existed even though Ben didn’t know me from Adam. We couldn’t have gotten through that without the two of them. They were a lifeline for me and Ben.

“Was it my fault? Did you two fight because —” Damn it. I’m not sure I can handle that guilt. I will if I have to, but I’d rather not.

“What? You don’t feel bad enough already with Benny gone that you gotta add to it?” He shakes his head. “Jesus, _Stanley_. Get over yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I tried that this morning, but you’ve turned into a Boy Scout.” He looks so disgusted, I’m startled into laughing at him.

“Enough stalling. Talk.”

He sighs. “I wanted to come up here back then, but Stella wouldn’t let me. She said it was a bad idea.”

“She was right.” That gets me a sharp look. “I was training Ben to a routine. If you’d come up here then, it would have confused the hell out of him. Would have made things worse.”

“Yeah. Stella said that. I didn’t like it.” He taps his fingers on the table. “I just wanted to do something to help, was all.”

“You did help, remember?” On the other hand, maybe he didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking too clear back then and might not have told him. “You helped a hell of a lot with those phone calls. Ben — he was so scared then. You —”

“Benny’s not the one I was worried about,” he says softly, looking straight into my eyes.

I take a deep breath, try to find a little balance in the face of all the shit he isn’t saying. I want to play dumb, pretend I don’t get what he means, but that was always Ben’s thing, and he could do it better than anyone around. On the other hand, I want to know when Vecchio’s worry turned into something that led to what happened this morning.

“Why did Stella leave?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He fiddles with his coffee cup first then sighs. “She said she could handle my crush on Benny, but there was no way in hell she could handle my crush on you.”

I stare at him, forget to breathe for a minute. It’s too much, and I can’t think about it right now. The way he tells me, the way he looks right after he says it — I take a mental step back. “Sundays. You two called us every Sunday. How did you work those calls?”

“She’d come over after church so we could —” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan to tell you.”

“Really? So you sleeping with me for the last couple of weeks, that was what — your way of saying we’re just buddies?”

All at once, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at Vecchio for not saying something sooner, and I’m pissed at myself for letting him into my bed this last week and a half without asking why. I’m pissed at Stella for not calling to warn me, and I’m pissed at Ben for getting sick and dying. And just to round things out, I decide I’m pissed at the world for making me deal with all the crap that’s been thrown my way the last few years.

“Ray —”

“Don’t.” I’m angry right now, and it’s not a good time to talk to me. Stella should have told him that. Hell, I punched him out, so he should have known it already. “I’m gonna take the dogs out for a run.”

He shrinks in on himself. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just —”

“You’ll just be here when I get back.” I glare at him until he nods, which is good. Last thing I need is to have to go chasing after him to drag him home for the rest of our talk.

~*~*~

March is in a couple of days, though you can’t tell it by the temperature. It’s more like you can tell by how long it is between the times you can smell snow coming. It’s been three weeks since the last storm, and there’s another good-sized one coming soon. It’s two or three days away, which means I have to get this shit with Vecchio straightened out by tomorrow at the latest. If we can’t, I’ll have to put him on a plane going south, because I won’t want to be snowed in with him.

The dogs are running good this morning, and I think it’s because the skies are clear. They’re a lot like people in some ways, and a sunny day cheers them up as much as it does me. I don’t pay too much attention to where we are, just let McQueen decide where he wants to go. We’re maybe six or seven miles out of town when we stop for a while. I give each of them tallow and water, and then I find a tree to pee against.

It was hard, taking care of Ben and not letting myself get angry for shit that wasn’t his fault. But I kept it together pretty good right up to the funeral and even after. I thanked everyone for their help, told them all I was doing good, no worries. Everyone bought it.

Everyone but Vecchio.

Day after we buried Ben, he started calling me Stanley again. I was irritated, sure, why wouldn’t I be? On the other hand, I figured he was pissed and stressed, so I blew it off, thinking he just needed some patience, which I have in spades after taking care of Ben these last four years.

Patience didn’t work. I lasted about a day and a half with Vecchio sniping and calling me Stanley every other word before I took a swing at him. Bastard just smirked while he wiped the blood off his mouth and asked if that was the best I could do, _Stanley_.

I got him in the gut with the second punch and in the eye with the third. There was a lot of yelling, I remember, and I was the one doing it. No idea what I was saying, only that when I took a fourth swing at him, I couldn’t get enough oomph to do more than tap his shoulder. There wasn’t a fifth swing. By that time, Vecchio had curled himself around me while I cried myself out. That night, for the first time in over three years, I fell asleep being held by someone who knew who I was and who would remember me in the morning.

Vecchio’s at home, probably waiting for me to come back and maybe start a fight. I can’t figure out what to do with what he told me, but I know I don’t want to punch him again. In a lot of ways, his timing is fucked up, and at the same time, it’s not. Three years was a long time for me to be alone, especially when I wasn’t exactly alone during that time. And from what Vecchio said, he’s been on his own for a year, so it ain’t exactly like either of us is on the rebound.

McQueen barks at me a couple of times. He and the rest of the dogs are ready to go again, and I guess I am too. No sense chasing my tail out here when the answers are at home, so I turn them around and head back.

~*~*~

Vecchio spent the morning cleaning, not that the place needed much. Between Ben and Katie training me, I’m not nearly the slob I used to be. Still, I appreciate the effort. It’s nice to come into a clean house after a few hours outside. Stew’s warming up on the stove, so I fix a couple of bowls and put them on the table before I hunt down Vecchio.

He’s napping on the couch, not that it looks like it’s doing him much good. Guy’s tense, which, no surprise there. I rub his cheek a little, same way I used to wake Ben up. “Vecchio.” I clear my throat, talk a little louder. “Ray. Lunch is ready.”

After a few mumbles, he opens his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little after one.” I stand up straight, hold out my hand. When he takes it, I pull him up. “We’ll go out to Dief’s grave after lunch if you’re ready to see it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” He isn’t looking at me when we sit. After a minute, he says, “I really didn’t mean to hit you with all that this morning.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He’s pissed at himself, but I get the glare. Go figure. “You don’t need this. Not now.”

“Shut up and eat, Raimundo,” I say, grinning a little when he scowls at me.

“Ray —”

“Eat. And while you’re doing that, listen.” I make him wait until I’ve taken a couple of bites of stew. Dogs do most of the work, sure, but a good run is pretty tiring for me, too. “I’m not gonna argue that your timing sucked, because it did.”

He nods, doesn’t say anything.

“Doesn’t mean it’s a disaster. I meant what I said — it’s okay.” We look at each other for a long moment before he nods. Good. First hurdle is done and behind us. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you think you took advantage of me this morning because I’m the grief-stricken widower.”

I get a look like I’m a moron, like I just announced the sun rises in the east. “What else am I supposed to think? Especially after you lost it.”

“You’re supposed to maybe think I been holding in a lot of anger since Ben got sick,” I tell him. He’s surprised for maybe two seconds, and then he starts to get it.

“Crap. You didn’t —”

“Nope. Stopped yelling as soon as he was diagnosed. No point in it, right?” He does that fish mouth thing, wanting to say something but not having words to put in his mouth. “Me punching you was about anger, not grief. I got over that a while ago.”

“You don’t get over shit like this, _Stanley_.”

Huh. He calls me that when he’s pissed or trying to get a rise out of me. Good to know.

“You’re right,” I say in my most reasonable tone. I fight back a grin when I see him pop a little vein in his forehead. Two can play at that game. “I’ll be grieving for him the rest of my life.” I lean toward him, give him another direct stare. “But the worst of it was over two years ago.”

Vecchio weighs that, starts to say something, remembers the calls. “Okay. I’ll give you that. But I still took advantage.”

“You did,” I agree, which knocks him for a loop. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to bait him. I won’t forget again. “You took advantage, because you knew what the agenda was and didn’t talk to me first. But it had nothing to do with Ben, got it?”

He wants to argue, and that’s fine. I like fighting with him. He’s got good rhythm, better insults. It’s just that right now, the argument isn’t what he thinks it is, so he’s kind of lost. Eventually, he gives up.

“Okay. I should’ve said something.”

“Something?” I raise my eyebrows and wait.

He rolls his eyes and adds, “I should have told you about Stella and why she left.”

“And?”

Ray lets out one of those gusty sighs he’s good at. “And I should have told you what I wanted a long time ago.”

“Yes, you should have.” I leave him hanging with that. I’m hungry, and the stew is good. My bowl is empty before I talk again. “You dated anyone since Stella left?”

“Uh —” He blinks fast, trying to catch up to me. Again, this is good. I had to scramble myself this morning, so maybe he’ll think twice before doing that to me again. “A couple of guys, a couple of gals, just to see. Nothing serious.”

“I ain’t dated anyone. Haven’t had sex since before Ben forgot me,” I announce. He chokes on his water, which is his own fault. The way I been running this conversation, he should’ve figured I’d be hitting hard and low. “Would you like to know the point of why I told you that?”

He scowls now, which makes me happy. It looks a hell of a lot better on him than that hang dog expression he had. “If you were trying to warn me about your premature ejaculation problems, don’t worry. I’m not surprised.”

Damn, he’s good. It’s all I can do not to laugh.

“I’m trying to warn you that everyone, including The Stella, is going to tell you I’m not stable right now. They will tell you very seriously this won’t last, that I will be using you to ease my sorrow.”

That catches him up. “Shit.”

“And you will get grief, lots and lots of grief from Frannie when she finds out, because she has gotten unexpectedly protective of me over the years.”

“But I’m her brother.” Poor sap. He honestly doesn’t get it.

“Yeah, and I’m the tragic widower, whose husband died too soon.” That’s not a guess. Those were the exact words she used to describe me when I called to tell her Ben passed away. “All I’m saying is don’t be surprised when she stops talking to you for a while, which she will, as soon as I tell her you and me are a couple.”

He’s still caught up in the idea that Frannie would take my side over his, so it’s another minute before he catches the last thing I said. I hadn’t made this decision while I was sledding this morning. It wasn’t a decision I _could_ make until I talked to him, got a feel for where he was coming from. That he has a crush doesn’t bother me, since he sees me for who I am, mostly. Yeah, he’s got a couple of wrong ideas, but it’s no problem fixing them, because he listens.

“You mean that?” Christ, he looks vulnerable. A look like that is scary as hell, so I do the only thing I can.

“Yeah. I mean that.”

~*~*~

We’re back in bed after lunch is cleared away. Seems pretty stupid to wait after all this time, and really, as nice as it’s been sleeping with him, I need the zing sex will give us. I don’t give a shit if he’s in me or I’m in him, because either way is good. Either way will connect us in a way I ain’t been connected to anyone in too fucking long.

“How do you want this,” I ask. We been naked and kissing for — for — who the fuck knows. We been naked and kissing for long enough that I want either my dick or my ass to get in on the action.

He tenses up. Can’t tell if there’s a blush or not, because we’re both kind of red and sweaty. “I’ve never —” Ray swallows hard. “I want to, with you, but I’ve never —”

“Taken it up the ass?”

Ray scowls and nods. His reaction tells me crude talk is okay outside the bedroom, but not inside. Ben was just the opposite.

“Feel better doing me instead?” I take a softer tone, use the language Ben and I had outside the bedroom. Ray nods and relaxes a little then relaxes even more when I stroke his dick the way I like mine stroked. “Sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He repeats himself, and it sounds stronger the second time out. Yeah. He’s getting with the plan, which is greatness.

I reach back and snag the lube and condom I found earlier. Condom’s probably expired, but we’re willing to risk it. I hand both over to him, and he freezes up a little. “Not quite like doing a girl,” I tell him, “Just a lot better is all.”

That gets me a grin and, pardon the expression, an assload of questions. I answer them all, and when I go to my hands and knees, I remind him that putting a condom on before playing with the lube is a hell of a lot easier. He looks at his dick and gives me a pointed look right after.

“What — you want a fluffer or something?”

“How about a little of the ‘or something’?”

I shift around and swallow his dick before he figures out what I’m up to, and I get a long, low groan by way of thanks. He’s got a nice dick. Circumcised, of course, so that’s kind of weird, but he’s got a clean taste to him. After a few sucks, I pull back and raise my eyebrows.

He mutters, “Fucker.”

I say, “Not yet,” and arrange myself again.

“So I just line up and shove in, right?” He’s aiming for cocky, falls a little short. I can still hear the nerves in his voice. Doesn’t mean I won’t play along.

“Thought you liked having a dick, Vecchio.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes quiet, and I can hear the lube squirt out a little. “This shit’s cold.”

“If you love me, you’ll warm it up first.” I flinch a little when he responds by squirting some in me cold, but I’m grinning, too. Been a long time since I had this much fun in bed.

Ray touches me with one finger. He’s hesitating some, so I push back against his finger to encourage him. It helps. With a little more coaching from me, first with words then with happy grunts, he adds another finger. While he’s getting a feel for what I like, I’m remembering how to relax into that kind of touch, remembering just how good it can feel. He twists his fingers one last time and pulls them out. It’s all I can do not to snap at him to put them back.

“You ready?” He’s more nervous than I am, and that’s kind of funny, but this isn’t the time to laugh.

“Hell yeah. Remember what I said — slow and steady.”

“Got it.”

Fucker takes me at my word. He’s not just slow, he’s glacial, and he’s a lot stronger than I thought. Every time I try to speed things up, he holds me still. How the _hell_ can he stand it? If it were me, I’d be pounding him to the mattress by now. I start begging him to please just fuck me hard, because I don’t know how much longer I can stand to feel this good.

He makes a few noises to calm me down and finally starts moving a little faster. Christ, it feels perfect. _I_ feel perfect. I feel like I could fly if Ray weren’t holding me down. He picks up speed, and he’s really going at me now. I’m humping air, which kind of sucks when I stop to think about it for half a second.

“Hand,” I say.

“Huh?”

“Hand. Yours.”

“What — what about it?”

“It’s not on my dick, asshole — Jesus!”

Gotta say this for Ray — give him a little direction, and he’ll take the hint and then some. He doesn’t just give me a reach around. He gives me a hand job that’s fucking miraculous, as far as I’m concerned, because he doesn’t let me pop right away. Whenever I’m about to come, he backs off or squeezes me tight to settle me down. I’m calling him all kinds of names, saying all kinds of shit, but he doesn’t listen. Just keeps playing me like a fucking virtuoso until _he’s_ ready to come. I shoot my wad maybe three seconds before he does, and then we both collapse. He’s out like a light as soon as he pulls out of me, and I will be too, as soon as I drag the blankets over us.

I was right. I needed that connection. Need it. _Will_ need it. In my head, I thank Ben for all the time we had together, thank him for being understanding about me and Ray. And then I drift off.

 ~*~*~

Ian Duncan picked up the last three dogs from my team this morning. Well. The last three except for McQueen. He’s going with me, and we’re both going to Chicago, to where Ray is. I haven’t seen him since he left a couple of months ago, but we talk most days. He and Stella finished getting divorced, and now he’s back with the Chicago PD. He says I can be too, if I want.

I don’t want.

Living in Canada taught me I’m a different person when I’m not keeping Chicago safe. I like the person I found up here, and I don’t want to change again.

Luckily, I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I got my pension and Ben’s, and I got half of a freakin’ huge bank account of his. No idea where the money came from, just that Ben specifically left it to me and Maggie.

All that money doesn’t mean I won’t work, though. I’ll find something to keep busy, maybe teach dance down at the Y, maybe do the handyman thing. Lots of seniors in Chicago could use cheap help, especially cheap help that won’t charge ’em an arm and a leg to sit around for a couple of hours and shoot the shit. Ray claims Ben had an unwholesome influence over me, but I can tell he’s excited and maybe a little proud about what I want to do.

I whistle, and McQueen comes running. Once he’s in the Jeep, I take a last look around. Ian’s brother, Jerry, bought my house, and he’ll be moving his family in in a couple of days. By that time, me and McQueen will be in northern Minnesota and in Chicago by the third day. Maybe once I’m there, Ray will be able to convince Frannie once and for all that he didn’t seduce me.

Or maybe not. Either way, it’s gonna be good to be home again.


End file.
